


Hurricane Kenway

by deathwailart



Series: Sail Your Sea [5]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: F/F, Femslash February, Fluff, Humor, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 10:58:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3408053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathwailart/pseuds/deathwailart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary's been away for far longer than she likes and she's glad to be back with Anne.  Neither of them counted on a Kenway-shaped interruption.</p>
<p>Written for the prompt: Anne/Mary, getting dressed in a hurry</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hurricane Kenway

The downside to having actual official (well, as official as a life of shanking people who want to strip all freedom from the masses ever gets) business to take care of is that she never sees Anne enough. Not that she ever really could see Anne enough in the first place because Anne is Anne, she's wild and alive, sweet and sharp by turns, quick to learn and she's got the desire to know more which is always a plus. When Mary watches her dealing with drunks or commanding a ship, she can almost get lost in it. Anne's so _young_ , there's so much that she's been through and yet she hasn't let it colour her the way it perhaps rightly should have. She can still smile, she still sings with a voice sweeter than any lark Mary's ever heard.  
  
Sod it, maybe she's besotted, she wasn't the one who had to go fish Edward out of the sea when he was stupid enough to say as much though she did feel bad for Adewale, having to deal with him. At least her and Anne take turns with Rackham.  
  
The fact is that her and Anne never have enough time together, always having to balance it carefully between lessons with the pistol and the cutlass, going exploring and getting into trouble, actually captaining the bloody ship because Rackham would rather be off getting drunk or more interesting things that tend to involve fewer and fewer clothes. And then there's always talking, her and Anne in some quiet little spot where the world can't find them, Anne's head on her shoulder as they share Mary's coat, a sleeve each, maybe a bottle of good rum to pass between them and Anne talks and talks in that lilting voice of hers and all Mary can do is stare and smile, tucking that gleaming red hair behind her ear and stealing a chaste kiss. Sometimes Anne sings for her alone, old songs from Ireland in a language Mary doesn't understand and some are happy, the kind of songs Anne will sing when she's a bit drunk, dancing with folk, arms linked to spin and spin until someone staggers into a table but so many of them are sad songs. She can tell from the glint in Anne's eye, the little catch in her throat, how she looks down and away once she's done before she curls closer to Mary and asks her to take her away from everything, to sail and sail to the very ends of the world for the rest of their lives.  
  
Or there are nights like tonight when it's her and Anne and Anne is nipping at her bottom lip, expertly removing her weapons and even the hidden blade without having to look. She knows Mary so well, better than anyone else still alive at this point. Anne with her clever fingers, Anne who moans and sighs and _laughs_ and maybe it's strange to love someone who laughs so much during sex but it's always fun with Anne and sometimes their lives are on a knife-edge, what with the Templars and the increasing efforts to stamp out pirates. Nights of Anne above and beneath her, no rules, just smiles and laughter, Anne flushed pink as the inside of a shell and Mary crying out until her voice cracks.  
  
"Christ I've missed you," Anne gasps at last, red as her hair all the way from her cheeks to her chest, a little bruise at either collarbone from Mary's mouth. "Need to have words with whoever tells you to run off for so long."  
  
"Wish it could be any other way," Mary replies, lifting herself up enough to lean across to brush Anne's nose with hers until she laughs and shoves her to lie flat on her back again. "Thought I was going mad at the end, missing you that badly."  
  
"Some day, you and me, ship of our own. Sailing for miles."  
  
"Co-captains," Mary vows and she kisses the look of surprise from Anne's face.  
  
"Co-captains?" She asks after, rising up on her elbows to stare down at Mary who beams up at her, arms folded behind her head.  
  
"Why not? You and me, equal share, equal in everything. If it's us then you're captain as much as me, we both know you're captain in all but name as it stands."  
  
"I'm quartermaster, don't reckon they'd think much-"  
  
"Tosh!" Mary cuts her off, sitting up quickly even as her body protests, wanting nothing more than to pull Anne close and kiss and hold her until she drifts off. "So long as a captain can be a captain then that's all that matters, everyone on this ship and who knows you would be lucky to sail under you. Don't sell yourself short."  
  
"You're mad," Anne mutters. It sounds like I love you so Mary kisses the tip of her nose and buries her hands in her hair.  
  
"Oi! Ma- James! Anne!"  
  
The voice is familiar but it's not Rackham and it has the pair of them scrambling, the sheets falling into a heap on the floor.  
  
"Oh _shite_ ," Anne hisses, staring at the door in horror and anger. "What's Edward doing bellowing for the both of us?"  
  
"Haven't the foggiest, I hope the fool's not bloody pissed and dragging trouble with him."  
  
"Oi!" Edward's voice is closer and Mary trips over the sheets as she tries to find her clothes. "Haven't got all night, c'mon, let's be having you!"  
  
"Fool'll force the door open the way he sounds and where the _fuck_ are my clothes!" Mary snaps and then gives the room a despairing look.  
  
Anne laughs and Mary doesn't think she's ever felt so betrayed in all her life.  
  
"What?" She asks because Anne's still just standing there (she might look longer than she should given the impending arrival of hurricane Kenway because Anne's naked and laughing and Mary isn't made of stone, not when Anne was so recently crying out her name and leaving scratches on her shoulders) naked as the day she was born and not helping at all.  
  
"Never thought I'd say the day that Mary Read looked _rattled_!" She crows although she at least manages to grab Mary's weapons, propped up as they are by the side of the bed.  
  
"I might've somehow come to care about Kenway but I'll be damned if he sees me with my tits out, d'you fancy giving me a hand?"  
  
"Oh I s'pose I could, you'll be making it up to me later, I had plans for you that I doubt we'll be getting to now."  
  
Mary's going to throttle him. Maybe drown him a bit. She'll at least threaten to use him as bait for a shark.  
  
True to her prediction, Edward arrives and tries the lock, then fiddles with it even as they both shout for him to bugger off, struggling with trousers and boots and lacings and Anne can't get her top to sit right, breasts almost comically raised in it and she's going to _kill_ Edward for this, slowly and painfully, she'll make a show of it, God knows she's had the patience of a saint when it comes to him. The door shudders as he barges into it before Anne finally curses and flings it open so hard that Edward isn't prepared and falls flat on his face to stare up at them dumbly.  
  
They're needed of course. Edward's actually very apologetic considering how much of an arse he is. Mary still boots him off jetty at the end of the night.


End file.
